


Song of Solomon

by Emi_theSassiestSousa



Series: A Change is Gonna Come [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bris is still getting her feet under all this, Crack, Dean loves LARPing, Dean would love tabletop, Direl means well, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Irish history, M/M, Mild Angst, Starts off a little angsty but gets to the happiness, a little bit of serious discussion, actual happiness, everything is easier when you bring Cas along, history buff Sam, meandering plot, more cassettes, music lover Cas, polar bear ocean swimming, selkies are old, you name it the boys have done it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 05:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14867490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emi_theSassiestSousa/pseuds/Emi_theSassiestSousa
Summary: A few shenanigans around the trip to find Solomon’s Seal in Capitulum Seven. 90% cracky fluff, 5% angst, 5% thinly-veiled deep discussion.





	Song of Solomon

**Author's Note:**

> For clarity's sake: This is right after the group left the selkies in Part 3 and before the epilogue.

It wasn’t that Sam didn’t _like_ Direl, he was a good guy, you know? Maybe a little pushy, but overall he was definitely a good guy.

It's just that Sam was honestly contemplating selling his soul to get Direl out of this car, that's all.

Again, not that Sam didn’t like Direl, it was just… well...

Well, currently, he was just cock-blocking like nobody’s business.

“So…” Sam tried after the latest awkward lull in the conversation. He glanced from the road to Bris, “Anything exciting happen this past month?”

“You mean _beside_ takin’ down that crazy witch cunt?” Direl practically shouted. “My stars, it were amazin’, Sam, you shoulda seen her—”

“Yeah,” Sam cut him off before he could get started on recounting it. Again. “Yeah. Besides that.”

“Oh, um,” Bris turned back from distantly looking out the window, “Cousin had a baby. S’pose that counts, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course it does!” Sam smiled wide. “Congrats! Was is a boy or a girl?”

Bris frowned, “Hows should I know?”

Sam glanced at her again. “Um… how do you not?”

“Well, we won’t really know ‘til we sees whether they start tryin’ to give out their coat, will we?”

Sam just blinked at the road. The amulet around his neck had him at least attempt an answer, “Uh… yeah, I guess not…”

Bris smiled softly at Sam’s distress. “Sorry, love, that’s more of a selkie thing. Don’t you worry about it, alright?”

She placed a hand on his knee and warm sparks shot through him. He smiled and took a hand off the steering wheel to grasp hers.

 _“Jaysus,_ you shoulda seen Bris when she started tellin’ us about all the blokes she were gonna hand her coat off to!” Direl leaned forward between them. “There were this fella, what were his name Bris? Braden? Breandan?”

Bris sighed and shrank a little. “Braden,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, that’s it! Oh, he were a spry little fella! Thought he could take on the world, tha’ one!” Direl smiled warmly at the memory. “What ever happened to him, Bris?”

Bris became tight-lipped. Her hand twitched, squeezing Sam’s.

“He joined the Brotherhood, Direl.”

Direl’s face fell. He leaned back, returning to his seat, “Right, erm... Sorry.”

“The Brotherhood?” Sam asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“The revolution,” Bris answered, “The Irish Republican Brotherhood. He… he didn’t come home.”

“Oh,” Sam said thickly. 

The conversation lulled again, and they rode in silence.

 

———

 

Maybe Dean should have let Direl ride with them in this car.

While Dean had been busy being pissed off about accidentally agreeing to let Direl come along in the first place, he had forgotten something important: Relegating Direl to Sam and Bris’s car meant that Dean was stuck on the _literally_ thousand-mile drive, alone, in the Impala.

Well, alone with Cas.

Because, sure, Dean had told Cas not to worry about the bullshit going on in Dean's head, but that didn’t mean _Dean_ wasn’t going to worry about the bullshit going on in Dean’s head.

And this was a sixteen hour drive. Minimum.

Not that it was _hard_ to ride with Cas. It was great, really. Dude was a freakin’ _master_ at comfortable silences. It was just… weird.

And Dean was _hating_ it. Things had never been weird with Cas before. Things had been endearingly awkward, or frustrating, or fragile, or even torn to pieces after some of the really bad shit— but it had never been _weird._

Christ, they were still only just outside of Chicago, skirting the top of Indiana, and it was gonna be hours before they even needed to stop for gas and Dean would get a breather from his own suffocating crap. Maybe he could make an excuse, get them to pull over sooner… but then the trip would just last that much longer. Dean rolled his eyes to the roof of the car, god, when had he become such a little bitch?

The radio started to crackle.

Dean glanced at it. “Looks like we’re gonna lose the tunes again, buddy,” he said, his voice seeming too loud in the small space. “You wanna pick a tape?”

 _“Hm?”_ Cas grunted, apparently pulled from some train of thought, his hand absently twitching. “Oh. Sure.” He opened the glove compartment and shuffled through the tapes. “Would Led Zeppelin Number Two be acceptable?”

Dean couldn’t stop a grin at that. “It’s just Zeppelin Two, Cas,” he corrected kindly, “and yeah, that’d be great, sure.”

Cas gently popped the tape out of its case, checked that it had been rewound properly, and carefully slipped it into its slot on the stereo.

A warmth spread in Dean’s chest. He turned down the heater.

Then the grin he didn’t realize had grown suddenly slipped off his face. Because before Cas had gone to open the glove compartment, his hand had twitched.

Twitched toward his coat.

_Sam said he’s got the tape_

Dean sighed. Not this again.

_Sam said he’s got the tape. Keeps it on him. Pulled it out while they were in the car_

Look, I don’t wanna do this right now, okay?

_He hasn’t listened to it yet. Doesn’t know what it means—_

It doesn’t mean anything!

 _Yeah, sure, that’s why you put_ _this_ _song on it_

The stereo helpfully elaborated:

 _“...You’ve been learnin’,_  
_Mm-baby I been yearnin’,_  
_All them good times baby, baby,  
_ _I've been learn-learn-learnin’...”_

What? This is a classic!

_Classic song to give your girlfriend maybe_

You know what? My head, my rules. You get to shut up now

_Fine, who the fuck else are you gonna talk to? Cas?_

Y’know what? Yeah, fuck you

“Hey, Cas.”

Wait, what?

“Yes, Dean?”

Oh, bitch

“Um…” Fuck— "Uh..." Bitch—  _bitch—_ “You, ah, you actually like this stuff? You know, the music?”

“Of course.”

The warmth in Dean’s chest flushed. “I mean, you don’t have to say that just because I play it all the time.”

“That isn’t the only reason I like it.”

Well _that_ couldn’t be misinterpreted, _c’mon,_ Cas. “Well, whenever you show me somethin' you like it’s never like this. You’re always showin' me crazy stuff. Like jazz. Or folk.”

“I enjoy all kinds of music.” Cas tipped his head at Dean. “Someone is there, trying to aurally show me a piece of their soul, and I wish to listen.”

Dean huffed a small laugh, because he was secretly twelve, “Orally?”

“Aurally. Of the ear. Not of the mouth.”

A whole mess of images that Dean wasn’t prepared for hijacked his head, tongues and the shells of ears featuring heavily. He forced himself to keep looking at the road.

“But I think this is my favorite.” Cas held up the cassette’s plastic case, admiring the small artwork. “This band, this style. The feelings they evoke are particularly potent.” The case came to rest in his lap again as he said, quieter, “It reminds me of when I lost my grace completely. Of the intensity of the emotions I felt then.”

Dean glanced at him. “Zepp does that to you?”

Cas nodded with one of his small smiles. “Yes, it does.”

“Huh,” Dean said. “That’s... that's pretty cool.”

Cas’s hands tightened on the case. “I’m… very grateful that you share them with me. Your band. All of your music.” He turned to him, “Thank you, Dean.”

Heat crept up Dean’s neck, “Hey, it’s no big deal...”

“Of course it is,” Cas said with finality.

Dean managed a half smile. “Alright. You’re welcome then.”

Cas gave him another little smile in return and settled back to enjoy to music. Freakin’ master of comfortable silences...

_I’m tellin’ ya—_

No

_Seriously—_

Look, just— Just shut up already and enjoy the damn music

_...Fine_

 

 _“...And if you say to me tomorrow,_  
_Oh, what fun it all would be,_  
_Then what’s to stop us, pretty baby,  
_ _But what is and what should never be…”_

 

…Bitch

 

This was gonna be a long ride.

 

———

 

A couple hours later the group stopped at a gas station. While the fuel was pumping and the others were stretching their legs, Sam and Dean approached each other.

They both stood stiffly, fidgeting, before bursting out:

“Please take Direl!” “Please give us Direl!”

They stared at each other.

“Alright,” they said together, Sam with a smile and Dean with a discerning look.

Direl was downright ecstatic at the decision.

Dean reconsidered whether this was a good idea.

 

———

 

Gasping, strained laughter filled the vehicle.

“And it was just a _cat!”_ Sam burst, “And he screamed for like _ten minutes_ it was amazing!”

Bris was bracing herself on the dashboard in an attempt to get her breathing under control, “My _god,_ that’s fantastic!” She rubbed at her eye, “Oh god, how’d you fix tha’ one?”

“Oh, you know,” Sam waved it off, still chuckling, and his answer came easily, “we just ganked the ghost, no big deal.” In times like these, with easy conversation, Sam could almost ignore the necklace, almost feel like he did before he got stuck with it.

Bris was still smiling wide when she asked, “So what happens to the ghost after?”

 _“Hm?”_   Sam glanced at her from the road, “Oh, they just move on.”

“With the fire an’ all…” Bris was growing a bit more serious, “does it... hurt? Where do they go?”

Sam considered that. “You know, in the moment, it’s pretty hard to tell. The ghost might be upset about being forced on, or maybe they’re actually screaming in pain. But we know for sure that they just move on to where they were meant to go in the first place. We had to do it to Bobby— god, that’s a story— and Cas has visited Bobby up in Heaven since then. Well, after I rescued his soul from Hell because Crowley diverted it.”

Bris’s smile was back, “What, Cas just popped in for a gas?”

“Well, no, we were trying to break another angel out of Heaven and we needed Bobby's help. See Dean still had the Mark of Cain and—”

“Whoa there, slow yer roll,” Bris chuckled, “We’re already about four yarns out from whatever you started tellin’ me!”

Sam turned to her as for long as he could keep his eyes off the road. “You sure you’re not going to get tired of this?”

“Tired a’ what?”

“Of me running my mouth at you, going ‘four yarns out’."

“Only if you get tired a’ me runnin’ mine.”

Sam smirked mischievously, “Oh okay, then, I’d better shut up now.”

“Oh eff off, ye maggot!”

From her continued grin, he assumed that insult wasn’t so bad. He reached out for her hand and she took it readily.

“Hey, um, I’ve got this podcast I’ve been wanting to listen to,” Sam said, taking his hand back to pull his phone and an AUX cord from his pocket. “It’s about Eleanor of Aquitaine, you wanna listen to it with me?”

“Who’s Eleanor of Aquitaine?” Bris asked.

Her genuine curiosity widened Sam’s smile. “Only the most badass woman of the twelfth century! Oh man, so she was the Duchess of Aquitaine and was married to the King of France, but she divorced him,  _while on crusade_ just so she could go after King Henry II. Talk about a freaking power couple— Here, we’ll just listen to it, you’re gonna love her.”

The podcast was only an hour long, but it took them three to get through it for how often they paused it, asking questions of each other and going off on tangents.

They started another one immediately after.

 

———

 

“Americans and your loud nonsense.”

Both Dean and Cas spun to glare back at Direl.

 _“Jaysus,_ sorry.”

Dean turned back to the road. Yeah, this had been a terrible idea.

Direl leaned forward between them, “So what the fuck’s been up with you two in the last month?”

Dean sighed. At least it was conversation. “Just been findin' some things, workin' odd jobs—”

“No-no-no. What’s goin’ on with _you two?”_

Dean’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. His eyes ticked over to Cas, who had furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Nothing has changed in the last month,” Cas said.

“Nothin’ has—? You’re coddin’ me, boyo!”

“I am not a fish.”

Direl stared at him for a moment, blinking.

Dean, however, was trying not to bust a lung from the laugh he was holding in. Since they had met the selkies, Cas had proven beyond a doubt that he understood what they were saying just fine.

He was just fucking with Direl.

“Sure— Ah—” Direl fumbled as Dean tried not to snort. “No, a’course not, I guess.” He shook his head a little. “But anyways, I was lookin’ into both yer hearts back at the river theres and—”

With a quick glance between Dean and Cas, a wall of solidarity appeared between them and the back seat.

Dean reached down and cranked up the volume. “What’s that, Direl? Can’t hear you over the music, man!” Dean shot a cocky grin at Cas, who might have been smirking.

“Wha— bu—” Direl sputtered. “Well jus’ turn down the—!”

Dean raised it higher.  _“What?_ Nope, can’t hear you!”

Direl opened his mouth a few times, but just flopped back in his seat, pouting.

Dean stole another glance at Cas. He was definitely smirking.

 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

 

Two diners and who knows how many gas stations later, they finally passed into the state of Rhode Island. It was the middle of the night and they were all beat from such a long drive, so they decided the chapter house could wait until tomorrow, and they found themselves a motel.

After parking, Sam joined Dean on the short walk into the office.

Sam asked him something.

 _“Hm?”_ Dean turned to him.

“Was the trip better?”

“Oh, yeah! Basically blasted Direl into the trunk, it was great!”

“I can tell.” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“You can?”

“You’re kinda shouting.”

“I am?” Dean lowered his voice. “My bad.”

They entered the office and a young man with shaggy brown hair and indolent eyes looked up at them from behind the desk, “Checking in?”

“Yeah,” Sam and Dean answered.

The clerk raised an eyebrow at Dean.

“Sorry,” Dean said, quieter.

The clerk just shrugged, “Meh.” He turned to his computer to start get them started. “Okay… just the one room?”

“No, two.” “Nah, three.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“We don’t need three rooms, Dean,” Sam said.

“Well I’m not sleeping with Direl so unless you’re cool with rooming with him—”

“It’s one night, dude.”

“Won’t have room for him anyway. Cas will be there—”

“Cas doesn’t sleep—” Sam caught himself, _"Won’t_ sleep, he’s a night owl.”

The clerk just shrugged. “Whatever, man, can we just decide? I’m kinda writing up my next campaign, so…”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Campaign?”

“Yeah, Pathfinder, do you play?”

Dean kept staring.

 _“Yeahh,_ okay," the clerk said, "so how many rooms?”

“Two.” “Three.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “The credit cards won’t handle it, Dean!”

“You just say that when you don’t wanna do something!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

The young man behind the counter rolled his eyes and picked up the pen on his notebook to continue his planning.

“Dean. One night. Two separate beds. You’re being ridiculous."

“Sam. Up yours.”

And _there_ was the bitchface.

Something clenched in Dean's chest. "Hey, I— Sam, I didn't—"

"What—? No, Dean it's fine, just—"

They heard the clerk clicking at his computer. “Hey, if it helps you guys decide, I’ve only got the three doubles open and they’re pretty pricey.”

“Way to sell it,” Dean grumbled.

“Hey, I just work here. Tryin’ to help you.”

“Fine,” Dean conceded, yanking his wallet from his pocket. “Two doubles.”

———

Back at the cars, Direl was still pouting, and the sight was enough to put the grin back on Dean’s face. His ears would be ringing for days, but it was absolutely worth it.

Someone tapped on his arm. He turned and Cas was frowning at him.

“Did you not hear me?”

“Huh? Guess not.”

Cas’s frown deepened slightly. Without preamble he laid a hand on Dean’s arm. The ringing ceased.

“You’re going to give yourself tinnitus, Dean.”

Dean grinned evilly. “What?”

“I said you’re going to give yourself tinnitus.”

“What?”

“I said you’re—”

Cas narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

Dean burst out laughing, “Sorry, Cas,” and he ducked into the trunk to reach for his bags.

“So how are we arranging ourselves tonight?” Cas asked, probably repeating his earlier question.

Dean shut his eyes and allowed that to skip safely across his mind. “In the rooms? Sam and Bris got one, and you, me, and Direl are in the other.”

Cas was standing very stiffly when Dean straightened up.

“Hey, I’m sorry, buddy, I swear I fought tooth and nail for three rooms. But it was gonna be too expensive.”

“It’ll be fine,” Cas said, eyeing Direl standing over by Sam and Bris. “I’ll watch him overnight.” _So he doesn’t try anything,_ Dean inferred.

He dropped a grateful hand on Cas’s shoulder, “Thanks, man,” and they headed for the room.

 

———

 

The next morning they decided over the breakfast Dean and Cas brought back to head out to the chapter house right away, so now everyone was waiting by the cars for Dean to come back from checking them out. But he was taking forever. Finally, Sam got impatient and went to the office to see what the hold up was. He stopped in the doorway, holding the door open, and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

Dean had his head propped on his hand on the counter, a little smile on his face, completely engrossed in the story the clerk was telling.

“...So no shit, no shit, there I was, we’re getting through the last cave of the night and I pull out the bad guys they're gonna fight and she goes ‘Oh shit, is it two goblins in a trench coat?!’”

 _“Argh!”_ Dean tossed his free hand.

“I know, right? I’m like, ‘Quit meta-ing, bitch’!”

“You didn’t!”

“Oh, she knew I was joking, and we all know she loves to meta, especially when she’s drinking, right? So you know, she’s gonna try to be better next time.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey, Dean, are we going?”

 _“Hm?”_ Dean turned around, “Oh, yeah, sure.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to the clerk, “Hey, text me the link to that website, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, man. You’re gonna love this shit, I can tell.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to leave. Dean was about to walk out the door when the young man said, “Hey wait!”

Dean turned back.

The young man looked him up and down. “Moondoor?”

Dean smiled wide and shot him some finger-guns, _“Moondooor!”_

“Dude, I knew it! Of _course_ you LARP! What realm are you in?”

“Dean!” Sam called from a few steps ahead.

“Text me,” Dean pointed back at the business card, and he followed Sam.

 

———

 

The town of Portsmouth was on an island only a short drive from their motel. Although to be fair, everything is a short drive away in Rhode Island.

They followed the map they had brought from the bunker to an empty lot on the outskirts of town. After some searching, they found a manhole with the Men of Letters’ crest on it and Dean unlocked it, wrenching the cover open and allowing them all to look down into the dark hole.

Direl eyed it warily. “So… do you lot live in a sewer, too?”

“We live in a bunker,” Sam answered.

“Right, ‘cause that’s better,” Direl said as he straightened up.

Nobody bothered to correct him as Cas and then Dean slid through the hole and dropped down.

It was dark inside, and the place smelled like no one had really been down here in years. Maybe decades.

“You gettin’ anything, Cas?” Dean asked.

“No, the protections in here are stronger than at the bunker. It’s just…” he gestured near his head, “...like static. It’s very annoying.”

“Well that’s not weird,” Dean grumbled. He pulled out a flashlight and looked up and down the hall. Not seeing or hearing anything coming at them from the distant recesses, he called back up the manhole, “Looks good down here!”

Sam dropped down next. “Here, Bris, I’ll—”

Bris dropped down next to him.

“—catch you.”

She tossed her eyebrows at him and followed Dean and Cas with a jaunt in her step.

Sam smiled after her, then he looked up the manhole again. “You coming, Direl?”

Direl’s head poked over the side. “You know... d’ya need someone to guard the door?”

“Um, sure,” Sam answered skeptically, “we might be down here a while, though.”

“Tha’s fine,” Direl said a little too high, his eyes darting around Sam into the dark, “I’ll be fine up heres.”

“Alright,” Sam shrugged, and followed everyone else.

They quickly found signs of a struggle, books scattered across the floor, chairs toppled, but everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. They silently noted it and continued around the corner. Here the hallway was lined with doors, and they split up to check them one by one.

Sam opened a door and was struck by the familiar smell of old books. He turned his flashlight to the wall by the door and tried his luck on the lightswitch he found there. The room lit up to reveal a small library.

“Hey guys!” he called out as he entered, “I’ve got something!”

The others followed him in as he began scanning the shelves.

“Huh, the electricity is on,” Dean noted.

“Yeah?” Bris turned to him.

“It’s weird.”

“Oh, of course, thanks for explainin’ that.”

“Sorry.” Dean moved to the table in the middle of the room. “When we found our bunker I remember having to flip the main breakers to light the place back up. This place looks just as quickly abandoned, but it’s ready to go? Seems weird.”

“There, were that so hard?” Bris chided him with a smile. She joined Sam at a bookshelf, missing Dean’s smirking eye roll.

“So we’re looking for anything that has to do with King Solomon or the Seal of Solomon,” Sam told her.

Bris raised an eyebrow at the volume of material before her. “Whole lotta crap here to sort through.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not all ganking witches and getting the girl,” Dean tossed out from where he was sifting through a pile of pictures.

Bris spun and glared daggers at his back.

Sam leaned down and whispered in her ear, *He means me, you got me,* and kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh." Bris lit up and turned back to the bookshelf, bumping her hip against Sam’s.

Cas bent over to pick a book up from the floor and knocked into the table, causing a pile of books and papers to tumble off the side.

“Ah, shit.” Dean went to pick them up, but stopped at the sound of a distant voice.

_“Hello? Is someone there? Please, help me! Anybody!”_

They all looked at each other and dropped what was in their hands to rush out and follow it.

_“Please, help!”_

The voice led them to a large, long, ornate room. At the back was a large stone altar, with a blonde woman chained to it.

“Somebody, please!” she shouted.

“What the—” Sam started.

“Holy crap, how long have you been down here?” Dean asked.

“What? I don’t know—” she turned her face to them, giving Dean a better look, “I just woke up and heard a noise and—”

“Hey, wait a minute, are you Sandy Porter?” Dean asked her.

“Who’s Sandy Porter?” Sam asked Dean.

“Just saw her picture in the library.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m Sandy!” the woman cried out, “Please, help me!”

Sam and Dean stepped toward her but were stopped by a hand on each of their arms.

“Yeah…” Bris said.

“That’s not a woman,” Cas finished.

“What?” Sam looked between them and Sandy.

Sandy laughed nervously, “What does that even mean? Of course I’m a woman! Please, help! Get me out of here!”

“Who the hell are you?” a voice shouted from behind them.

The four of them spun to see a small crowd of hooded figures between them and the door, each one pointing a gun at them.

Sam, Dean, and Bris raised their hands the air. Cas followed the gesture. “Whoa-whoa-whoa," Sam said, "it's okay, we’re with the Men of Letters—”

“Like hell you are!” the person at the front shouted with a feminine voice.

“We’re Legacies. From Capitulum One—”

“Yeah. _Sure._ What the hell are you doing here?”

“Please, help me!” Sandy shouted, “They’re holding me here—”

“Shut up!” the woman shouted at Sandy. “What the hell are you doing here?” she repeated.

“We’re looking for the Seal of Solomon,” Sam had to answer, “or information about the Seal of Solomon.”

“Oh, of _course,”_ the woman hissed scathingly, “You’re here to release her and open the portal again! Men of Letters, my ass!”

“What? No, we—”

“Wait, wait—” Dean waved his hand and slowly lowered it to dig into his pocket. He held up his keychain with the bunker key on it. “We had a key, we’re really Legacies—”

“Where did you get that?” the figure to the right of the woman demanded with a deeper, male voice.

“From Henry Winchester, our grandfather—”

“Winchester?” the woman asked.

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. “Yes,” Sam answered. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Another man near the back of the group piped up. “We’ve been tracking the Winchesters for years. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Which time?” Sam and Dean said together.

The hooded figures presumably stared at them.

“Look, do we have, like, a secret handshake that we can prove ourselves with or something?” Dean snapped, clearly growing impatient.

“I mean, do you know the oath?” the woman asked.

“Um... no.”

“The creed?”

“No…”

She raised a palm, “The moto?”

“Okay, nevermind, we don’t know jack shit,” Dean admitted. “We just got the key off our grandfather when he showed up with Abbadon on his tail—”

A jolt ran through the small crowd. “Abbadon is back?” someone gasped.

“Oh, no, I killed her.”

They were presumably staring again.

“Look, could you take those hoods off? You’re creepin' me out.”

“Oh.” “Sorry.” “Yeah.” the crowd mumbled.

They lowered their hoods, revealing themselves to be a group of people varying from around twenty to forty years old.

“I’m Ophelia, this is Marco, my brother.” She gestured at the rest of the group, “And we watch over this Capitulum.”

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Sam said with a small wave of his still-raised hand.

Bris and Cas shifted awkwardly next to them, not sure if they should introduce themselves.

Dean took advantage of the pause, “So what’s up with Sandy?” he jerked a thumb behind him.

“They’re holding me captive! Please help me—!” Sandy tried.

“About a hundred years ago our great-grandfather summoned Yokoth over there to try purge the world and begin anew,” Ophelia explained. “He... went a little crazy after the war.”

“That’s insane!” Sandy shouted, “Please, let me go!”

“She tried to summon her mate and ate basically everyone before they managed to bind her. We’ve been watching her ever since.”

“You don’t actually believe this—”

 _“Lady,_ give it a _rest!”_ Dean snapped over his shoulder. “We already know you’re not human. Seriously.”

Sandy screeched. “You miserable cretins! Glythur will find me! I will escape these bonds and reunite with my love! We _will_ be together again!”

*Christ, she talks like a friggin' Hallmark movie,* Dean muttered. “So, um, you want us to kill her for you or something?” 

The group stared at him.

“What?” Ophelia squeaked.

Cas lowered his hands and dropped his angel blade from his sleeve. “I could kill her for you.”

They turned as one to Cas, mouths agape and guns drooping. Ophelia managed another, “...What?”

The others slowly lowered their hands as Cas asked, “Is that a problem?”

“What—? No, it’s— We’ve been tasked with guarding her for the past _century…”_ she trailed off.

“And you can just kill her?” Marco finished.

“Well I can try,” Cas shrugged.

“Jesus…” Ophelia breathed.

“No, I’m Ca—”

Dean elbowed him in the ribs, biting his cheek against a chuckle. “Just go, buddy. Show ‘em how it’s done.”

Dean thought he saw the hint of a smirk starting on Cas’s face as he turned to the back of the room. He strode to the altar and raised his blade above his head. A little higher than strictly necessary, Dean thought with a grin.

Yokoth struggled against the chains, “Wait! No! Glythur, my love, please help! _Wait—!”_

Cas plunged his blade into her heart. She screeched with an unearthly noise and arched off the altar, pulling desperately against her bonds. A purple appendage burst from her mouth in a last bid at escape, thrashing violently— but the screeching stopped and she collapsed back to the altar, now lying in a slowly gathering pool of purple ooze, the appendage draped limply over the side of the altar.

Cas wiped his blade on his coat, stowed it again, and returned to the group.

The Men of Letters were frozen in shock, jaws dropped, possibly forgetting to breathe.

“Huh,” Dean landed a hand on his hip, “well that was anticlimactic.”

“Hey, um,” Sam went over and placed a hand on Ophelia and Morco’s shoulders, “you guys okay?”

They blinked, looking between Sam, Cas, and the altar.

“It’s over,” Ophelia said.

“It’s finally over,” Marco echoed.

“Yeah, um, so... you’re welcome,” Dean shrugged and walked over to them. “Anyway, you guys know about the Seal of Solomon?”

“Yeah…” Ophelia blinked again, “Yeah, it’s, um... it’s over here.”

In a daze she led Dean over to a cabinet in the wall. She opened it and pulled out a small box, lifting a glowing purple crystal hanging on a chain from it.

Just as she was going to hand it over to Dean, she seemed to come to her senses and snatched it back, “Wait a minute, why do you need this?”

“We need to get into an alternate dimension and rescue some family members who got trapped there before they get ganked by angels.”

Ophelia was back to staring, “Oh… Well... Okay.” She placed the crystal in his waiting hand. “You said you’re from Capitulum One? Should probably add that to the archives anyway.”

Dean led them back to the group, “Yeah, I'm sure Sam will get right on that.”

Sam looked up as they returned, “What am I doing?”

“The boring shit." Dean winced. "I mean— I got the thing. We ready to go?”

“Sure, yeah—” But Sam stopped, he turned back to Ophelia. “Wait a minute, how did you know we were here?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You guys just waltzed right in. You set off, like, every single alarm spell we have on this place.”

“Huh,” Sam said, looking around, “we should put some of those on our bunker.”

“You don’t have the alarms up at Capitulum One?”

“Well there’s the big one that sets off the red lights.”

Ophelia was gaping once again. “But you don’t have any of the other alarms up?”

“Like what?”

Sam and Ophelia quickly fell into a heavy discussion on the types of spells that should _really_ be active on the bunker.

Dean rolled his eyes, realizing they were now going to be stuck here a lot longer. He noticed Marco in the crowd, looking particularly lost at the moment, and approached him. “So, ah, now what?”

Marco jumped a bit, “What? Who?”

“All you guys. What’re you gonna do?”

“Um…” Marco looked distantly around the room, “I dunno. Never really thought about it… We’re only here to guard Yokoth. We’re not even really proper Men of Letters…”

“You’re not?”

“I mean, all our ancestors were kicked out because of the incident. We’ve... kind of just been guarding this place out of guilt.”

Dean eyed their robes, “You sure look like members to me.”

“But we were disgraced—”

“Yeah, your great-grandparents were. But those guys are all dead. Like, all of them, actually, in case you hadn’t heard,” Dean said, glancing away. “Wiped out in the fifties. So you and us, we’re all that’s left of this shit show.”

“Wiped out?” A shaky hand went to Marco’s mouth. “We thought they cut contact because of how ashamed of us they were.”

“Jesus, dude, you gotta let that go.” Dean looked him up and down. “Yeah, ain’t no gatekeepers anymore, just us. So— I dunno— go live your life, or clean up this place, or whatever the hell you want, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Marco studied the room again, a new light in his eye, “Yeah... We could start all over again.”

“Have fun with that,” Dean clapped him on the back with a wry smile. He checked in on Sam— now scribbling whatever Ophelia was saying into a notebook— and Bris and Cas, standing awkwardly off to the side. He carefully walked up to Sam, “Hey, um, are you maybe ready to go?"

“What?” Sam popped up to face him, “Oh, sure. Here, Ophelia,” he ripped a page out of his little notebook and wrote his number on it, “Text me later. When we get back to the bunker I definitely want to talk some more.”

Ophelia took the paper, “Cool, yeah.” She shifted her weight, “Um, thanks again.”

“No problem,” Sam said, and gestured to Bris and Cas.

The four of them waved their goodbyes to everyone and left down the hall, heading back toward the manhole.

Bris nudged Sam with their clasped hands. “So, what, yer part of a secret society, too?”

 _“Hm?_ Oh. Yeah, I guess so.

"We’re literally grandfathered in,” Dean said, smirking at his little witticism.

Sam rolled his eyes. “They found us, though, we didn’t actively seek them out. It’s a long story involving time travel and a Knight of Hell— that was the Abbadon we were talking about—”

“Oh Lord above,” Bris let her head knock back, “now time travel's a thing, too.”

“Sure is," said Dean. "You name it, we’ve done it, sister."

“Oh, really?” Bris grinned. She put a finger to her chin. “Okay... dragons!” 

“Yup.”

“What?” She whipped to face Dean.

“Yeah, they’re basically people with fire powers and wings.”

“Ah— Shit... Alright… Um, zombies?”

“Yeah, Death brought back a whole slew of people once just to deliver a message to us. Then they started eating people.”

“Death,” Bris said flatly.

“Yeah, the first Death. Then I killed him.”

Bris stared for a few steps before she collected herself. “Aliens?” she tried, her voice high.

 _“Mph,_ nope, got me there,” Dean smirked, “that turned out to be faeries.”

“And then that other time it turned out to be the Trickster,” Sam added.

“Gabriel,” Cas corrected somberly.

“Right.” “Yeah.” Sam and Dean faltered, staring at their feet.

It was then that they reached the manhole. The four of them stopped and gathered around it, looking up at the circle of light about five feet above their heads. Nobody said anything for a while.

Then finally, Bris pointed at it and asked:

“So how was we plannin’ on gettin’ back up?”

 

———

 

Direl lowered a rope to them that he retrieved from the trunk and they climbed their way out.

“God, I always hated that in gym class,” Sam complained as he looked at his red, rope-burned hands.

“What, in school? They make children do that?” Bris said, looking at her own.

“Yes and yes,” Sam answered. "The boys, anyway."

Dean led the way back to the car, the Seal of Solomon swinging from his fist. “Well that took, like, an hour. Now what?”

“Now we need a plan to rescue Gabriel from Hell,” Cas answered.

“So, what? Back to the bunker already?”

“What? We just got heres!” Direl exclaimed. “Haven’t even been to the ocean yet!”

“Oh yes, I can _smell_ it it’s so close!” Bris bubbled.

“I mean this island is like, two miles wide,” Dean grumbled.

Sam’s face fell as certain pieces of selkie lore jumped to the front of his mind. “Oh… you… wanted to go to the ocean?”

"Well feck, a'course we do!” said Direl, “Only got a glance at it what when we crossed that bridge, mate!”

“Sam, we ain't been in the ocean in _years,”_ Bris pleaded.

Her face was awash in preemptive devastation, as if she expected he would be able to say no to that. His heart broke a little from it.

“I’m sorry, yeah, of course we’ll go.” He shoved the lore to the back of his mind and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here, let’s find a public beach, okay?”

Bris gave him that stunning smile and gripped his arm to look down at his phone.

Dean leaned over to Cas, “You up for that, man?”

“I don’t miss the ocean, if that’s what you’re asking,” Cas said. “I've watched them form and shift, and observed Life develop beneath its surface over the course of billions of years. I’ve seen it plenty.”

Dean blinked at him. “Right. Um—” He coughed. “No, I just meant like, did you want to go with them or not. We could do something else. Work on the plan.”

“Oh" said Cas. "No, we could join them."

Dean waited for Cas to turn towards the car before rolling his eyes. Freakin’ drama queen.

Sam soon found a beach a few minutes away and they piled into the cars. When they parked, Bris and Direl leapt out before the engines were even off. Sam hurried out and shouted after them, “Wait, at least check for people before you—” But they were over the hill already.

“Shit.” Sam jogged after them, trying to come up with a cover story on the fly for how two people transformed into seals before some civilian’s eyes. A trick of the light? An artistic performance? Flash mob magic show?

Fortunately— despite what the lack of snow and _almost_ comfortable temperature would have one believe— it _was_ still winter and the beach was deserted. Sam crested the hill just in time to catch sight of Bris and Direl running straight into the water, flipping their coats on, and diving right in.

Dean and Cas soon caught up to him as the three walked across the sand to the water’s edge. They stopped a few feet away, out of the reach of the waves, and watched the two seals leap in the gentle waves, barking and squealing with apparent delight. Further and further the two journeyed from shore, and for a harried moment Sam wondered if this was it, if the lore was right and Bris would disappear into the horizon forever.

But the seals stayed close, going no more than a few hundred yards out at a time, always returning to where the boys stood on the beach. Sam’s chest unclenched and he scoffed at himself. Most of the lore on selkies had been wrong or woefully simplified to start with, why should this have been any different?

One of the seals popped their head above the water a few yards away, and barked back at them on the shore.

“What?” Sam shouted at who he was guessing was Bris.

The seal barked again and dove under the surface, popping up a few yards further out.

“What, you want _me_ to come in?” he shouted.

She nodded.

Sam looked out at the water, then he shrugged with a smile, and he bent over to start untying his shoes.

“Dude, you’re gonna get hypothermia,” Dean said.

“I'll be fine, Dean, besides, Cas has my back, right Cas?” Sam smiled up at him. “You’d heal me right up.”

“Of course,” Cas said, “but you should be careful of riptides—”

“Cas isn’t your personal first aid kit, Sam,” Dean bristled.

Sam popped up from taking off his socks, “What? Of course not, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, Sam,” Cas said as he looked at Dean.

Sam was back to smiling. “Good,” he said, and in only a moment he was down to just his boxers and the necklace. A breeze whipped by and he visibly shivered. “Alright, here goes nothing!”

He ran into the waves, leaping about a foot in the air when he first hit the freezing water.  _“Shi-IT!”_ he shrieked— and Dean would swear up and down it was a shriek— but he barreled on, diving in headfirst once he was in up to his waist.

Dean watched him dispassionately. *Crazy bastard,* he mumbled.

“Do you not want to swim as well?” Cas asked.

Dean snorted. “God no.”

Cas tipped his head. “Why not?”

Dean shifted his weight. “Not really an ocean person, Cas.”

Cas tipped his head further, now beginning to squint. “Why not?”

“Okay, well _first_ of all it’s fuckin' freezing. You heard Sam scream like a little girl there, I ain't goin' in that."

"And second of all?"

Dean sighed through his nose. "And second of all... it’s… you know…” he trailed off.

“No, I don’t, that’s why I asked.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know… It’s… It’s huge! It’s freakin’ huge!”

“Oh.” Cas turned back to watch Sam, now laughing while Bris zipped in circles around him. “You’re afraid of it.”

“What! No I’m not!”

“It’s alright, Dean, it’s a common fear.”

“I’m not fuckin’ afraid,” Dean grumbled, “Just like not bein’ dead under a billion tons of wet bullshit.”

Cas took a minute to parse that out. Then he said, “Sam was right, I wouldn’t let that happen. ‘I’ve got your back’.” He swayed minutely toward Dean.

“Yeah. Sure,” Dean frowned, glowering at the sand. He added under his breath, *Probably just as scared as I am.*

Cas turned to glare at him.

Oh shit. Super-hearing.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean raised his palms, “I didn’t mean—”

“I wouldn’t let you drown, Dean,” Cas said with the righteous intensity usually reserved for facing bad guys. “I would never allow such harm to come to you.”

“I—” Dean started. He swallowed. “I believe you, Cas. I’m sorry.”

Cas pinned him there a moment longer before looking back to the ocean. “Good,” he said, and watched as Bris let Sam hold onto her as they sped through the water, his delighted shouts pealing back to them on the shore.

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

They stayed out in the water for a few hours, not that Dean and Cas watched them that long. Eventually the two of them went back to the cars to wait, though Dean did run a towel out to Sam’s pile of dry clothes for him. Their conversation as they sat in the Impala _had_ initially begun with the plan to get into Hell, but somehow in there it turned to movies about the ocean. Cas was in the middle of explaining to Dean that a creature the size of Godzilla couldn’t possibly exist— because of course its internal temperature would would cook itself alive if it was warm-blooded or it would be unable to maintain its core temperature and would freeze if it were cold-blooded— when Sam, Bris, and Direl finally returned, all smiles and laughter and windswept hair.

They agreed to head out for lunch, and reconvened at a little crab shack a short ways up the road.

“Christ _almighty,”_   Direl moaned into his food. “Haven’t had good fare like this since before we was caught, have we Bris?” 

“Nah, it’s been nothin’ but nasty-bottom feedin’ fish and furry critters since we gots out, and worse while we was in.”

Sam didn’t give his pang of pity a fighting chance and instead eyed the herring that Bris was devouring. “Have you ever had sushi?” he asked her.

“What’s a sushi?” she asked around a mouthful.

“It’s a stop we’re definitely making on the way home,” Sam answered with a smile.

Dean groaned, but not loud enough that anyone but Cas could hear. Cas leaned over to him and murmured, *I suspect you’ll like it, Dean.*

“Speakin’ o’ that,” Direl said to Sam's previous statement, “I'm thinkin' I’m gonna stay here a whiles.”

“Oh?” Sam’s eyebrows jumped. “You sure?”

 _“Yeah,”_ Direl sighed contentedly, looking out over the ocean. “Done missed the water so much, and there’s so much to see out heres. Gonna give it a look around, y’know?”

“You have fun with that,” Dean said, trying and failing to conceal a small grin.

“Suspect I might,” Direl mused, “Suspect I might...”

He leaned forward to look at Sam, “Left the phone with Inas, though. Would you mind helpin’ me set up a new one before you takes off here?”

“Of course,” Sam answered, "not a problem at all."

They finished their meal with idle chatter, talking of nothing in particular and nothing of import, not making any further plans or discussing existing ones. For a short while, they were just a group of friends and family having lunch together, sharing stories and telling tales, just enjoying each other's company. Their problems still waited for them outside the restaurant door, but for now those were held at bay, staved off by laughter and love.

 

On the way home the four of them did stop at a sushi place, and everybody loved it. Even Cas tried some, noting that the octopus had had a particularly interesting diet before it was caught. Dean almost choked he laughed so hard, and promptly ordered seconds.

 

They returned the car they had stolen in Illinois to the town they had taken it from, leaving it with a tank full of gas in apology to its owner.

 

They visited the selkies again, or at least those who were sticking together to return to Ireland once the paperwork was ready. They spent almost a whole day with them this time, drinking and swapping stories. Ballo was ecstatic to hear that Direl had taken it upon himself to explore the eastern seaboard.

 

Sam and Dean took turns driving through the night from Illinois back to Kansas, too excited to get home to bother stopping for a motel room.

 

On the way back, while Sam was driving, Dean messaged that motel clerk— whose name was Darren— and found out that you can join tabletop games remotely. _There’s a whole website just designed for it!_ he'd told them all excitedly, and Sam had rolled his eyes with a smile.

 

When they finally got back to the bunker, they trekked in from the garage wrapped in the bleary grogginess that comes after a long trip. Ketch poked his head down the hallway from the library, gave Sam a quick update on the passports, and disappeared again just as quickly. Sam gave Bris a quick run-down of the bunker's layout before showing her to his room. She decided she was going to go right to bed and put off getting a proper tour until morning. Dean said he might make a grocery run, but he was probably going to try to get some sleep first.

And so it was that Sam and Cas went to the kitchen to have some beers together before Sam went to bed himself. They discussed their recent streak of good fortune, almost too good to be true, and Cas reminded Sam not to tempt Fate. Sam had smiled at his best friend, and reassured him that everything was fine. Because for him, in that moment, it really was.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright friends, this might be it until Part Four, so if another ficlet doesn't pop up I'll probably see you again a month or so from now! Toodles!
> 
> PSA: If you would like to get updates from this series, you need to click the subscribe button for the series, not the one here for this fic. If you click this subscribe button here you will only be notified if I added a chapter to this ONE fic. You want the Subscribe button for the SERIES or from my AUTHOR page if you want series updates.


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